


Internal Bruising

by AliceB132



Category: Les Misérables RPF
Genre: Acting, Bromance, Conflict, Dream Violence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, On Set, Rivalry, dream death, method acting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-12 02:18:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18001916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceB132/pseuds/AliceB132
Summary: "It proves a challenge for actors to come out of character after employing method acting techniques, sometimes altering their behaviour, urging them to follow impulses that would be foreign to their own personal nature."Psychological Effects of Method Acting





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

 

David was sitting under a sun shade on the main street of Limbourg, where they were filming the scenes set in Montreuil-sur-Mer.  When Lily sat down next to him, he had to resist the urge to get up and go to his trailer. 

“So, we haven’t really talked much recently,” she said, her West Coast accent reminding him painfully of home and of his wife and children.

_Javert put his boot on those thoughts of family and trod them into the dirt.  Distractions were not permitted._

“It’s difficult,” he said.

“Talking’s not difficult.  Is everything ok?”

“Everything’s fine.  It’s good.”

_Javert was silent, but watching._

David struggled to find something else to say.  “The rushes are good,” he said eventually.

“My God the rushes are _amazing_.  Yesterday was, I can’t even say, you guys are amazing.”

They had shot Javert introducing himself to Madeleine the previous day, but David didn’t remember much about the filming.  On days like that, when Javert filled all the space inside his head, David recalled only feeling very small and distant and threatened.  It didn’t make any sense for him to feel like that, but there it was.

There was peel of laughter from across the wide street.  Lily looked up and David looked around.  _Dominic._ As ever, between takes and set ups, he had a group of crew and extras gathered round him.  David and Lily were too far away to hear what he was saying, but along with some extravagant gestures, he had the crowd laughing again.

“He is such a clown,” Lily said, affectionately.  “When I first met him, I thought he had, like, ADHD.”

“Then he should be on Ritalin,” came the brusque reply. "Instead he's polluting the set with this _constant_ braying."

Lily’s face fell.  “What is your _problem_? You've been behaving like an asshole for weeks. Get over yourself."

He watched her make her way across the cobbles and heard Dominic bellow, “Lily! _Mon cher_!” as she joined his group.

David rubbed his eyes.  He was getting a headache.

Tom passed by.  “Hey, David.”

“Can I ask you a question?”  The headache was thumping behind his eyes.

“Sure.”  Tom sat down.

_Dominic and the throng of people around him and the noise they were making... Intolerable._

“You don’t think this fraternisation has gone too far?”

“Fraternisation?  That’s a hell of a word.”

_Javert was impatient for his answer._

“Well?”

“I don’t see the harm in it,” said Tom, slowly.  “It’s great for morale.”

“Is it really?”

“Yeah, it energises the whole set.  And I like that tight feeling between cast and crew.  Like a family.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“David that has kind of been your choice.  You’re not being excluded by anyone but yourself.  I know Dom can be a handful, he’s like… a huge eight-month-old puppy that never grew up.”

“And if it pees on the floor, you should rub its nose in it.”

“Actually no, David.  I wouldn’t do that with an animal and certainly not with a human being.”

“There might be some discipline on set if you did.”

“Um, wow.  Do you have a particular incident in mind?”

“It’s a general observation.”

“A general observation about one specific person.”

“If you like.”

“Not really, David, no.  Listen,” Tom stood up, “you were both so great yesterday.  Whatever he’s doing is working for him.  Whatever you’re doing is working for you.  Let’s keep focused on that, ok?  This other stuff is my responsibility.  I don’t want you worrying about it.”  Tom clapped him on the shoulder and left.

David went to his trailer.  He lay down on the couch, nauseated.  His head thudded.

He fell into a restless sleep where strange dreams and ragged fragments tumbled together into a nightmare.

In the dream, they were filming the interrogation in the Guard Room but there was no one else around.  He was Javert, bristling with a righteous, superior anger.  He heard the prisoner being dragged into the room.  But it wasn’t Valjean, it wasn’t Dominic, it was himself.  Shackled to the roof beam, shaking in fear, Javert began to beat him with a whip.

There was a bizarre, disorientating doubling in his mind, of being both prisoner and guard, of being in pain and dealing out that pain, of being helpless and of being in power.

He awoke in a panic, scrabbling to get off the sofa, sweat trickling over his body.  He ran to the bathroom and vomited, his headache pounding and pounding.

***

Several weeks later, they were filming the interrogation scene for real.  David was no longer present in any real sense; he was far away and lost. 

_It was Javert who circled deliberately and paused behind the prisoner.  That smirk had enraged him.  A lesson was required.  He set his stance and then lashed out with his fist, punching the convict hard in his left flank._

Dominic gasped and yelled in pain, his wrists twisting in the handcuffs.

“Cut!” shouted Tom.

“Ah, fuck,” said Dominic.  He held his hands out as best he could. “Can someone get these off,” he said, desperation in his voice.

The prop guy hurried over with the keys and unlocked the shackles.  Dominic pulled his hands free and was immediately favouring his left side, groping for the wall for support.

“David, what the fuck?” he said, doubled over.

David didn’t reply.

Tom was at Dominic’s side, his hand on his shoulder.

“Jesus, are you ok?  What the hell is going on?”

“Fuck knows.”

“What?” said Tom, sharply.  “You pair hadn’t work-shopped this?”

Dominic shook his head.

“David,” Tom demanded, “what the hell were you thinking?”

“I thought the scene needed it,” came the measured reply.

Half the crew were now hovering around Dominic as he tried to recover.

“Everybody,” Tom shouted, “fifteen minute break.  Clear the set.  Someone go with Dom and get him checked out.”

 When the set was empty, Tom turned to David.

“I want an explanation.”

“As I said, I thought the scene needed it.”

Tom couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.  “We have had extensive discussions about the core of the conflict between these two.  The fact that Javert does not lay a hand on Valjean in this scene is critical to building that tension.  What you have just told me is nonsense.”

There was no response.

“I want an answer.”

David settled his gaze upon him.  “He smiled.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The smile.  It required a response.”

Tom stared at David.  “I’m concerned about this whole thing you have going on here.  I don’t want to undermine your approach, but you just assaulted your co-star for Christ’s sake.  Get a grip, David.  I mean it, get a fucking grip.”

“So he can improvise and I can’t?”

“There is a whole fucking universe between a smile and a damn sucker punch. The fact that you are even attempting to conflate the two is… I don’t even know what it is.”  Tom was disturbed and exasperated.  “Get some air, calm it down and we’ll come back and do what’s on the fucking page, ok?”

A raise of the eyebrows then David strode off the set.

Tom sank into his chair.  Handling the extreme differences in his two leading men was always going to be a challenge.  They were absolute opposites in almost every way and balancing their conflicting needs had been an issue at times.  However, on screen they were dynamite together, their scenes spat and crackled with an insane tension.  It was remarkable, that kind of chemistry and so rare that maybe Tom had let things run too far in pursuit of it.  Clearly, it had gone too far today.

The crew were filtering back onto the set and then Dominic wandered over.

“Are you ok?”  Tom asked.

“Magic spray and aspirin,” said Dominic, a little subdued.

“You’re good to go?” asked Tom.

“Yeah, let’s get it done.”

“Look, I’m going to deal with what happened, but so we can get through this afternoon, we’re going to stick to the letter of the script, ok?”

“Fair enough.”

Dominic was looking across the set.  Tom followed his gaze and saw David had arrived back.

“You’re sure you’re ok?”

“I’m fine,” he said and made his way to his mark in the centre of the set.

As Dominic raised his arms to be shackled, Tom could see he was in discomfort.  He was going to need to be in those cuffs for the rest of the day but that position was clearly causing him pain.  There was nervousness too, now his wrists were shackled in place, entirely the wrong kind of tension for the scene.  The camera was going to be inches from his face; it would pick up the tiniest flicker. 

Tom wasn’t sure this was going to work.

The lights came on, the camera was set and David was on his mark, self-contained, separate, unreadable, leaning on the back wall.

“I need a minute,” Dominic called out.

That mixture of discomfort and anxiety was still evident on his face.  He rolled his head on his shoulders, loosening some of the tension, then he began to deep breathe.  Long, slow, calming breaths that were almost meditative.  There was an imperceptible shift in his physicality, in the focus of his eyes and then Dominic… was gone.  Valjean stood in his place, surly, sullen, defiance radiating off him, with not a sign of pain or unease.

Tom had never quite got used to the way Dominic would just _become_ someone else in front of his eyes, the total suppression of his normally exuberant self, so this whole other soul could emerge.  David was just as unsettling in his own way.  Javert was always present, with a blistering intensity that unnerved everyone on set.  How he could let that take him over to such a degree was disturbing.

Actors, thought Tom to himself, regarding his two leading men in turn.  What a totally weird bunch of people they were. 

*** 

“I respect your process, David, I do, but I can’t let what happened today pass.”

They were in David’s hotel room after the day’s shooting had concluded.  It looked as though no one had been staying there, whereas he’d actually been living there for a month.  It was monastic, almost completely bare and tidy to an unnatural degree.

“It’s not the first time that this thing has gone over the line and injured one of your colleagues.”

“That was an accident,” David replied.

“No, not exactly.”  Tom couldn’t let David off the hook.  “Because Javert is totally indifferent to causing Fantine pain when he pushes her, _you_ were totally indifferent as to whether or not you hurt Lily, which meant you hurt Lily.”

“I apologised and checked she was ok.”

There was a chink of discomfort now, David was looking away.  Maybe Tom was finally getting through to him.

“And she was great about it, a trouper, yeah.  But the point is she shouldn’t have to be.  When your process is hurting people, we can’t have that anymore.”  Tom paused.  “Have you apologised to Dom?”

David looked up at him, an expression of disgust visible for a micro-second, before he replaced it with smooth indifference.

“You did a shitty thing to him,” Tom pressed.  “You sucker punched him while he’s cuffed to the ceiling.  When he’s probably at his most vulnerable in this whole shoot, you do that.  How the hell do we get past this?  There has to be trust between you two—“

“He shouldn’t trust me,” David said, flatly.

“Hey, that is your problem.  It may help you, but it could have fucked up Dom’s performance today.  He doesn’t need this shit to get his job done, ok?  It’s not for you to decide that for him.  You want respect for your process, but you don’t have any for his.”

David snorted.  “What process?”

This wasn’t David.  They had all spent time together before filming and David was a generous, thoughtful, decent man.  Tom was alarmed by how little of David there actually was in this conversation.

“Hey, Exec credit or not, when you’re on my set, I’m the boss.  I will not tolerate this behaviour continuing.”

“You’ve made it clear where your loyalties lie.”

Again, Tom was astonished by that response.

“I think you need to see someone.  Seriously, David, this is way over the line.”

David was ignoring him now so Tom left, more disturbed than ever.


	2. Chapter 2

David’s devotion to Javert even stretched to refusing to stay in the same hotel as the rest of the cast and crew.  Tom headed back to their hotel.  He needed to speak to Dominic, but his phone had been going to voicemail for a while.  He was often found holding court in the one of the hotel bars, so Tom did a quick tour and found a few of his crew in a booth.  Apparently Dom had cried off that night’s festivities.

“You seriously checked the bar before you checked here?” said Dominic, letting Tom into his room.  “I’m _wounded_.”  He clutched his chest dramatically, but the gesture made him wince.

“Many a true word spoken in jest?” Tom asked, looking at him with concern.  With no convict make-up to mask it - no sunburn, no bruising, no grime - he looked pale.  “Dom, are you ok?”

There was a long pause before Dominic answered.

“Not sure.  It really fucking hurts...”  He seemed to be debating whether to say something more.

“What?” said Tom, not sure he wanted to hear.

Dominic scratched his thumb across his brow.  “I’m pissing blood.”

Tom stared at him, shocked by what he’d just heard.  “Are you joking?”

He shook his head.  “Wish I was.”

“Christ, how hard did he hit you?”

“Really fucking hard.”  He quirked a rueful smile at Tom.  “Probably why it really fucking hurts.”

“You need to see a doctor, like now,” said Tom.

“Yeah.”  Dominic nodded at his phone.  “That’s what Cat said.  I’ve got an Uber on the way.”

Tom had been driving around Belgium and France for months and had his own rental parked at the hotel.

“Fuck Uber,” he said.  “I’ll take you.”

 

“Are you his family?” the nurse asked Tom.

“He’s my boyfriend,” Dominic said, slipping his hand into Tom’s before he could reply.

Even now, Tom thought, he was absolutely incorrigible.

“Ah,” said the nurse and Tom saw her make a mental adjustment.

Dom leaned close to his ear as they were lead into the consulting room.  “They might not have let you in otherwise.”

Tom shook his head and took his seat.

They explained to the doctor in a mixture of English and French what had happened, not quite telling the whole truth.  They said it was a stage punch gone wrong.

“Ok,” said the doctor.  “Stand up, your shirt off, please,” he said to Dominic.

He stood, took off his shirt and dropped it on the consulting room couch.  There was a large, dark reddish-purple bruise below his ribs on the left. 

“Ah,” said the doctor and tutted several times.  “I will touch it now.”

The doctor firmly pressed the bruise and Dom nearly went through the roof.

“Jesus, fuck, don’t do that!”

“Sorry, sorry,” said the doctor, mildly.  “You can dress now.  You will have a scan, tonight.”

“Ok, yes,” said Tom as Dom sat down.  “We can wait.”

“You kidney is here,” the doctor said, indicating on his own back the area of Dominic’s bruise.  “And this makes bleeding in the urine.  The scan will see how much.  Which… er… pain pill have you taken?”

“Just some aspirin,” said Dom.

“No, no, no,” said the doctor, sternly.  “No aspirin, very bad for bleeding.”

“Shit,” said Tom.  “How many did you take?”

“Half a dozen.”

“What is this number?” asked the doctor.

“Six. Since about eleven o’clock,” said Dominic.  It was now a little past seven thirty.

“No more.”  The doctor wrote out a new prescription and showed them out.

After filling the prescription, Dom took a couple of the new painkillers and they sat back in the waiting room.

“Sorry, looks like were stuck here for God knows how long,” said Dom.

“Fuck sorry,” said Tom, tersely.

“So,” said Dom.  “What did he have to say for himself?”

Tom looked at Dominic, not following.

“Well, you came to my room for something before all this…“  He waved his hand in the air.

“Jesus, Dom.  It’s like it isn’t him anymore.”

“He’s never done a character like this, has he?”

“I don’t think so, not for this length of time anyway.”  Tom shook his head.  “How do you cope with them?”

“Rule one, don’t do full Method.  Rule two, don’t do full Method…”

“I get the idea,” Tom said, smiling.  “Seriously, though, you’ve done some dark, dark stuff.  How do you deal with that?”

“Don’t stay in character, it’s just far too damaging.  In 2011 it went psychopath, narcissist, and then psychopathic narcissist, one after the other.  If I’d stayed in character for all of those bastards, it would have been the best part of a _year_.  I don’t find it necessary.  I certainly don’t think it’s healthy.”

“Have you ever felt the need to talk to anyone, you know, professionally about this stuff?”

“What, psychological professional?”

“Yeah.”

“Not needed to, no.  I have though, when they were on set or available afterwards.”  He thought for a short while.  “It helped to decompress.  Their insights were useful and interesting and it did help keep a perspective.”

“Don’t suppose you’ve got any phone numbers?”

“Not sure,” said Dominic, scrolling through his contacts.  “I might have some numbers who might have numbers.”

“Could you,” Tom began, then rephrased.  “Would you have a chat with him, see if you can give him any pointers?“

“I don’t see how,” said Dominic, his tone clipped.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean he barely fucking talks to me out of character,” Dominic said.  “It feels like I’ve done something that has seriously upset him.  But I don’t know what it is, so I can’t put it right.  I’ve tried to talk to him.  And I’ve tried to put up with him blanking me after every scene, but it’s really fucking hard.  Sounds pathetic, I know.”

“It does and it doesn’t.”  Tom swallowed stiffly.  He knew he’d left things to boil because their performances were so astonishing.  He scrubbed a hand over his eyes.  “On the face of it, yeah, but I’m just trying to think, if someone was doing that to me, if _he_ had been doing that to me…”  He tried to imagine what three and a half months of that might feel like.  “It would start to get to me, I have to admit that.”

“I’m not just being a needy little tart, then?” asked Dominic.

“No,” said Tom, and trying to lighten the mood, added, “not _just_ …”

“Thank you very fucking much.”

“Open goal, sorry.”

“I’m going to phone Cat, let her know what’s going on.”

He left the waiting area to find some privacy.  While Dom was away, Tom rang around a few of the numbers Dominic had given him and then, reluctantly, he called David’s agent in LA.

 

When they were finally called for the scan it was nearly eleven pm.

“The gel is cold,” said the technician.  She squirted it onto Dominic’s back.

“Fuck, it is cold,” he said.

“I will need to press so be aware,” she said in perfect English.

When the ultrasound probe was pressed onto the bruise Dom flinched and gasped.  He gritted his teeth as she pressed harder.

“Your kidney is here,” she said, outlining the grainy image on the screen.  “See the areas?”

There were three lines radiating out from the centre.  “These are small tears in the surface of the kidney but they have bled very much.”  She eased the pressure and the image moved out.  This next image was a dark, shapeless mass.  “Here that blood has collected in the tissue and formed a haematoma, which is a swelling that is compressing on the kidney.  Very painful?”

“Yes,” said Dominic, emphatically.

“So this is very deep bruising, it will be painful for a while.  I will send this to the doctor, please wait and he will see you.”

 

The doctor was looking over the results.  It was now past one am.

“I would like to you stay in the hospital tonight, one day, maybe two.”

Dominic was shaking his head.  “I really need for that not to happen.”

“We need to watch for twenty-four to forty-eight hour, then you will rest, one to two weeks’.”

Dominic looked at Tom and they could both see hundreds of thousands of pounds disappearing if Dom was out of action for that long.  Tom had no idea if the insurance would cover this situation.  He had told those on the set at the time to keep it quiet, but it was pretty much guaranteed everyone would be gossiping about it by now.  And if it got off the set, they would struggle to spin what had happened.

They managed to barter the doctor down to keeping Dom in overnight with a reassessment in the morning.

 

“I’ve got nothing with me,” Dominic complained light-heartedly as they settled him into bed.  “I told Cat, if you’d been a woman, you’d have a least brought my toothbrush and a change of pants with you.”

“True, true,” said Tom.

“Appreciate everything you’ve done tonight, though,” said Dom.

“No, look, seriously, I’m so sorry this bullshit has literally put you in the hospital.”  He gave Dominic an awkward hug.

“Hey, people will start talking!”

“Like they won’t be already, after that ‘boyfriend’ shit you pulled downstairs.”

“Better to be the news than read the news, eh?”

“Get some fucking rest,” said Tom, wearily.  “I mean it, rest up.”

***

The next morning, Dominic was waiting for the doctor to discharge him.  He’d called Tom to say he should be freed by about ten thirty.  Tom was in a million meetings, trying to reschedule what he could, so he was going to send someone to pick him up.

“Dominic!” a woman’s voice cried out across the ward.

His eyes lit up.  “Livvy!  Darling!” he shouted.

Olivia swept into the ward with bags and bags of stuff.  She threw them on the end of bed and gave him a big hug and kissed him on both cheeks.

“Oh my God, Dominic.  What the fuck!” she said, flopping down in the visitor’s chair.

“You probably have a better idea than I do.  I’ve been stuck in here for hours.”

“Honestly, we can’t all quite believe it, but we sort of can?”

“Yeah,” said Dominic.  “That sounds about right.”

“David is still keeping to himself, like nothing’s happened.  It’s madness, Dom, madness. Everybody is franticly running around trying to reschedule the entire week.”

“I can be back on set tomorrow, if they can sort something out.  I don’t suppose you know what’s going on with the insurance?”

“Fucking hell, don’t worry about that.  David certainly isn’t.  You need to relax and try and forget about all this for a bit.  You do look absolutely knackered, by the way.”

“Thank you for noticing,” he said, flipping some imaginary hair over his shoulder.  “I was working on it all night.”  He’d hardly had any sleep.  The new prescription was better than the aspirin, but if he turned too quickly the pain would still jolt him awake.

“Oh,” said Olivia, craning her neck, “medical person approaching.”

It was a nurse, come to apologise that the doctor was running late.

“He will be one half hours, sorry.”

“Do I _have_ to wait?” asked Dominic.

“Sorry?”

“Er _… Je dois… rester ici pour le docteur_?”

“Ooh, hark at you,” cooed Olivia.

“ _Oui, s’il vous plait.”_

 _“Pour une demi-heure?”_ he asked.

“ _Oui.  Ta femme peut attendre ici.”_

 _“Ce n’est pas ma femme,”_ Dominic said, with a smile.

“Not your wife?” asked the nurse.

“No, she’s my mistress,” Dominic blurted out.

Olivia snorted in shocked amusement.

“Sorry,” said Dominic, “sorry, don’t know where that came from.”

“From the fevered mind of a filthy boy,” Olivia said.

Dominic nodded in agreement.

“Thank you,” he said to the slightly confused nurse, who left the bedside with some haste.

“Is Catherine coming over?” asked Olivia.  “Bet she is really worried.”

“If she can sort something out with the kids.  Trying to get my sister to take them for a few days.”

“Logistical nightmare,” said Olivia.

“Certainly is.”  He didn’t want to talk about Cat and the kids.  He was finding it difficult not having them here, but Olivia didn’t want him blubbing all over her about feeling vulnerable and lonely.

“Anyway, what _is_ all this shit?” he said, eyeing the bags that Olivia had brought with her.

“Tom said you hadn’t got anything with you, so I got a few bits in case they kept you in.”

“In case they kept me in for… ten years?”

“People were giving me stuff as well.  You know, we’re all quite worried about you.”  She squeezed his hand.

“That is really sweet,” he said, genuinely touched.  He looked in one of the bags.  He pulled out an unopened packet of underwear.

“Spiderman pants, from Adeel,” Olivia grinned.  “Sexy and supportive.”

“Is that Adeel or the pants?” asked Dominic, all innocence.

Olivia cackled.  “Both, if you like!”

“You know I do,” he said, mischievously.  “All this is almost worth it for the insight into Adeel’s knicker drawer.  Can we give the fruit and flowers to the ward or something?”

“That would be nice.”

“And I need to talk to Tom.  Can we go back via the set, once they _finally_ let me out?”

“Nope.  Strict instructions, back to the hotel because they’ve organised a nurse…”  She waggled her eyebrows at him.  “They want to make sure you don’t die in the night of blood clots.”

“Liv, I do need to talk to Tom.”

“Not face to face you bloody don’t.  Do as you’re told.”

“I know I called you my mistress but I didn’t mean it quite like _that_!  I rather like it.”

“Of course you do.  Now unless you want me to drive back over every speed bump and pothole in France, I suggest you put that thought right out of your mind.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Dominic, not chastened in the slightest.

 

They got back to the hotel about noon.

“I’ll come up and get you settled,” said Olivia, grabbing the bags off the back seat.

Dominic held out his had to take one, but Olivia shook her head.

“I can manage,” she said, brightly.

“People with think me terribly ungallant,” he said, as it began to spit with rain.

“Get moving, you daft sod.”

They reached his floor and he apologised for the state of the place.

“It’s not that bad, actually,” said Olivia.  “I was expecting boy’s-bedroom-meets-frat-house, but it’s just a bit messy.  Do you want me to tidy up a bit?”

“God, no.  It’s fine.”

“Do you want anything to eat, it’s nearly lunch time?”

“I’m not really hungry.  I’ll have something later.”

“If you’re sure, I’ll get off then.  You need to get some sleep by the looks of you.”

“You’ve been an absolute tonic, Livvy,” he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek.  “Thank you.”

“I’ll keep in touch and text you all the goss!”

***

David had retreated to his hotel room once filming had been officially scrubbed for the day.  Tom had taken the decision because _Dominic_ wouldn’t be available, and yet, here he was, still managing to be the centre of attention even though he was nowhere to be seen.

_The disruption he was causing was unacceptable._

His phone was where he had left it, on the bedside table.  There were several missed calls from his wife, several missed calls from his agent and several missed calls from Tom.  He didn’t return any of them.  Instead he turned it off, got changed and went to the gym.

He was bristling with frustration as he hit the treadmill, sprinting hard until he was slick with sweat and out of breath.  He slowed the pace and did some long, hard miles.  He didn’t stop until he was edging into exhaustion and wringing wet.

Back in his room he took a long, hot shower, scrubbing himself clean in the near-scalding water until his skin felt raw.  He turned the shower to cold and stood under the icy flow until he was shuddering uncontrollably.

He stepped out into the steam-filled bathroom, his skin trembling with the cold.

He wiped the mirror and stared at his reflection.  Looking steadily into his own eyes, he felt numb and calm and more like himself than he had in a while.  There was a still, quiet, hollow place inside.  As he watched, the steam began to re-mist the mirror.  The image of himself grew ghostly and then faded into the haze.

He dried himself off, got dressed and ordered lunch from room service.  Afterwards, he lay on the bed and fell into a deep but dream-plagued sleep.

Javert was kicking down doors in a lodging house, causing the occupants to scatter or cower in the corners of their tattered rooms.  The next door he kicked in opened not on an 19th century hovel, but on a 21st century living room; a plush sofa, a large television, a coffee table strewn with the Sunday papers. 

“Who do you think you are?” Dominic shouted from the stairs.

He had apparently dressed in a rush from the shower.  Javert felt a rush of heat.  Dominic’s hair was wet and his shirt was clinging to his body, open to his mid-chest.  Javert wanted to plant his lips there, work his way up to his collarbone.  He wanted to press his tongue into the side of his throat and feel his pulse quicken beneath it.  He wanted to run his lips along the angle of his jaw and then kiss him deeply on the mouth.  He wanted to bend him over that soft leather sofa and fuck him till he wept.

“Who do you think you are?”  Dominic was now standing right in front of him.

“I’m the police.”

“No you’re not.  Get out of my house.”

Tom was there too, now.  “You heard what he said, get out.”

And then there were more people, more voices, all telling him to get out, to get out before he was thrown out.  There was a wall of noise, shouting and yelling and Javert turned and ran from the room, the heat of desire transformed into the burn of humiliation.

 

David awoke a few hours later to someone knocking on the door.

It was still light outside.

“David?”

It was Tom.

“David?”  More knocking.  “We need to talk.  You’re not answering your phone and people are worried.  I’m worried.”

He rubbed his eyes and swung his feet off the bed.

Tom’s voice was urgent.  “I don’t want to have a conversation through the door.”

David opened the door but didn’t move out of the way or invite him in.

“We’re going to do this out here?” Tom asked.

“What do you want?”

“Dominic spent last night in hospital.”

“So I heard.”

“So you’ve heard?  Is that all you have to say?”

David could feel irritation beginning to build from somewhere deep within the hollow centre of him.

“What do you want me to say?”

“Maybe, ‘How is he?’ or ‘I’m sorry,’ or anything that sounds more like David than it does Javert.”

David looked at the wall behind Tom, anxiety uncoiling in his stomach.

“Answer your phone, David,” Tom implored before leaving.  “Talk to the people who care about you.”

David shut the door.  The phone’s dark screen was staring up from the bedside table, blankly accusing him.  He went over to it and picked it up.  Sweat beaded his forehead and then broke out on his palms.  He pushed the phone under the pillow.  He didn’t want to deal with what was on it.

He switched on the television and turned up the sound, hoping the noise would stop the voice.  The voice that had been quiet that was now growing louder in his head.

 

That night the dreams returned. 

The midday sun was beating down and the air was thick and suffocating as Javert and his men prowled the back streets of Montreuil.  They were on the hunt.

There was a scuffle up ahead and Javert’s men had their quarry.  Dominic, in jeans and a dark blue dress shirt, looked terrified and confused as his hands were cuffed behind his back.  His eyes locked with David’s, pleading for help.  He was trying to speak, but there was no sound coming from his lips.

He was dragged into the middle of the main street and forced to his knees.  A crowd began to gather, cast and crew, some in costume, some not.  They formed a large circle around him and Javert then strode into the centre.

David pushed his way through the crowd and into the circle.

Javert was standing behind Dominic.  He drew one of his pistols and aimed it at the back of Dominic’s head.  David grabbed his arm and tried to pull the gun away, but Javert shoved him hard and he fell, skidding across the ground.

David watched as Javert aimed once more at the back of Dominic’s head.  The hammer was pulled back, its metallic click menacing in the oppressive air.

Dominic’s shirt was plastered to his back with sweat and David could see his breathing was rapid and shallow.

The sun was blistering.  The heat rippled off the ground.  Their shadows cowered beneath them. 

Javert pulled the trigger.

The flash burned David’s eyes, even in the bright sunlight.  He flinched at the explosive noise as it reverberated off the stone.  Dominic slumped forward.  David, still sprawled on the ground, was looking directly into Dominic’s dark eyes.   They stared blankly back at David as his blood began to trickle between the cobbles.

David scrambled to his feet in front of the silent crowd.  Javert turned towards him and drew his second pistol.  He aimed it between David’s eyes.

There was a polite round of applause from the crowd.

Then Javert fired.

David jolted awake with a cry, groping for the light switch, stumbling out of bed.  His hands and feet were numb and it felt as though someone had closed their hand around his throat.  His back hit the wall and he sank to the floor, shaking.

He lay there, curled in the corner, until daybreak.


	3. Chapter 3

Dominic’s nurse left shortly after breakfast.  Showering with a Swede named Alexander a few feet away had been interesting, as had the man helping him get dry and get dressed.  Embarrassing didn’t really do justice to the experience.  Infantilising probably came closer.  He was fairly sure he could have got dressed by himself, but his back was so restrictively painful, it probably would have taken him an hour just to put his socks on.

Dominic was milling about his room, not sure what to do or where to go, when there was a knock at the door.

“Lily, my dear!” he said, letting her in.

“God Dom, you look awful.”

“Thank you, Lily.  You’re the second person to point that out.”

“I didn’t mean…”

“It’s a good job ‘knackered old bastard’ is in this year.  Have a seat,” he said, gesturing at the chair.  He leaned against the dressing table.

“I can’t believe this,” Lily said.  “How are you?”

He thought for a moment.  “It’s a bit like having broken ribs.  If you don’t move and don’t breathe, then it doesn’t hurt.”

“I heard they got you a hot nurse.”

“As scorching as a Scandinavian summer.”  He showed Lily the picture of Alexander he’d teased his wife with.

“Oh my God, he’s gorgeous.”

“Gorgeous but rather stern.  Mostly he just sits and reads his book, which is actually quite disconcerting when you’re trying to get to sleep.  He’s this sort of _form_ in the corner.”

“That sounds pretty creepy.”  Lily tapped her phone on her chin.  “I was thinking.  You should get a picture of the bruising.  Have you taken one?”

“No.”

He wasn’t usually squeamish and it would have been easy enough to take a picture in the mirror, but for some reason that he couldn’t pin down, he hadn’t wanted to see it. 

“You should, you know, just in case.”

“Just in case what?  I die in the night and the lovely Alexander can’t save me?”  Dominic shook his head.  “You Americans and your lawyers.”

Lily shrugged.  “I think you should.”  She swiped through a few screens, and then showed him the massive bruising she’d suffered after David had shoved her over on the cobbles.

“Jesus,” said Dominic.  “I didn’t know it was that bad.”

“I know.  It hurt like hell.  That was what, three and a half months ago.  I’ve still got the shadow of it on my ass now.”

“Poor Lily-bear,” Dominic pouted.

“I guess you’ve joined the club now.  So… you want me to take the picture for you?”

“Go on then,” he said.  “As long as you don’t put it on Instagram.”  Dominic carefully pulled his shirt out of his jeans.  “Can you do the back?” he asked.  “I can’t really twist without screaming like a girl.”

“Like a girl?” Lily asked, pointedly.

“…or a boy.”

“That’s better.”  He felt her take the tail of his shirt and lift it up.

“Oh, that’s a doozy,” Lily said and he heard the shutter snap of her phone.  “What did they say it was?”

“Deep tissue haematoma.”

“Urgh, you can kind of tell, it’s really red and gross.  Should you even be out of the hospital?  I mean if you need a nurse…”

“God knows.  Alexander only does the night shift.  I’m free to wander in the day, but I don’t know what to do with myself.  I feel a bit… I don’t even know what the word is.  Unresolved?”

Lily was nodding.  “I get that.  I think it could be because the trauma is so fresh.”

“It’s not like I’ve just come back from a war zone, Lil.”

“I know, but you can’t say what happened was normal or ok or ordinary.”  She suddenly looked pensive and a little upset.

“What’s the matter?”

“Look, I haven’t gotten into this with anyone but – this is going to sound really strong but it’s how I felt – I felt like David had violated my trust.  I’d put my trust in him and there was all this humiliation mixed in because I had opened myself up to that.”

Dominic was silent, his lips folded in on themselves.

“This is hitting a nerve, right?” Lily said, wiping a tear from her eye.

“Don’t cry,” said Dominic, “you’ll set me off.”

“What he did to you was so out of line, I feel sick when I think about it.  I mean, he physically and mentally fucked you over.  I don’t know how you carried on with the scene, after what he did.”

Dominic wasn’t entirely sure either.  “A bit of adrenaline, I suppose, and ‘The show must go on,’ that sort of implicit pressure always comes to bear.  Not wanting to let everyone down.”

Lily was nodding.

“I mean, I do remember thinking, ‘Get a grip, you’ve had worse than this on the rugby pitch.’”

“Ah, some macho stuff going on there.”

What he wasn’t able to say, what he hadn’t wanted anyone to know at the time, was how much David had hurt him.  How much it had rattled him and had burrowed under his skin.  When combined with the silent treatment David had been giving him, Lily was right, this had stirred up a complete mess of emotions and they were not something he felt able to talk about.

Dominic’s phone rang.

“Tom,” he said, clearing his throat.  “Just comparing war wounds with Lily… No… no I’m alright… Ok…”  He dropped the phone away from his mouth for a moment.  “Lily, what time’s your car getting here?”

“Eight-thirty.”

“Lily’s getting picked up at half eight, I’ll grab a lift… Ok… See you later.”  He hung up and exhaled heavily.

“What’s up?”

“Big meeting.”

“You up to that?”

“It’s got to happen at some point.”  Dominic felt less confident that he sounded.  “’If it were done when ‘tis done, then twere well it were done quickly.’”

***

The conversation with legal and financial had been interesting.  They were covered in the event of an assault causing a delay in filming.  However, there was a possibility that the insurance company could go after David to recover their losses.  Their preferred solution was to use the illness clause rather than the assault clause and have David, not Dominic, signed off due to severe stress.

It made perfect sense to Tom.  Persuading David could be an issue, but Tom had a couple of cards up his sleeve if need be.

The meeting convened at ten o’clock.  Tom was keeping his eye on Dominic and David, who were sat on opposite sides and at either end of the conference table.  The other producers and Tom’s AD were there to discuss and approve the revised schedule.

They had various contingencies already roughed out and agreed and Tom wound up the meeting by running through the week’s revisions.

“We had the quarry scenes slated for later this week,” Tom concluded, “but the problem is Dominic—“

“Finally,” David said, “thank you.”

There was an awkward silence.

“If you’ll let me finish,” Tom said.

“Of course,” David replied.

“As I was saying, the problem is Dominic has these physical scenes coming up this week which are out of the question, due to the… nature of the injury.”

“Sadly, no pick axe swinging or rock lifting,” said Dominic.  “I sneezed this morning and nearly fainted,” he said, jokily.

A ripple of amusement ran around the table, but Tom knew that it was true.  He’d seen Dom sway and have to lean on a door frame for support.

David threw down his pen and muttered bitterly, “Attention seeking whore.”

There was a collective intake of breath in the room, but as they had all been briefed, the comment was allowed to pass.  Tom glanced at Dominic and saw a flicker of emotion cross his eyes.

“Given the situation,” Tom said, firmly, “we are pulling forward Dom’s interior scenes with Ellie to this week, including those in the Gorbeau Hovel, excepting the fight scene.  That will be parked along with the quarry scenes until we’ve had the ok from the doctor.”

There was general agreement around the table and the meeting began to break up.

“David,” said Tom, “can I have a word?”

When the room had emptied, Tom moved his papers and laptop down to David’s end of the table and sat down next to him.

“The reschedule means that you won’t be needed for the next week or so.”

“So I gathered.”

Tom opened his folder and gave David a plane ticket.  David stared at it and then at Tom.

“What’s this?”

“I’ve been talking with some people who have experience with this sort of thing.”

David was frowning.  “This sort of thing,” he said.

“The difficulties that we’ve been having.  They said certain people can be vulnerable, a particular role can adversely affect them.”

“Really?” David replied, dryly, but Tom thought there was a hint of something more in his tone.  Something reaching, something trying to lean into the light.

“Their advice is that you need a break.  You need to go home and take some time away.”

David was tracing the edge of the plane ticket with his fingers.  Tom checked his watch.  It was almost time.

“These are a couple of numbers,” said Tom, passing David a note.  “For you to speak to when you’re back in LA.  They’ve dealt with this kind of thing before, so please, please talk to them.”

“I can’t,” said David and again, it was that strange firmness mixed with something that was almost longing.

Tom’s answer was to open his laptop and turn it towards David, where David’s wife was on video link from LA.

Immediately, David’s expression changed.  His eyes softened, his face softened, his whole demeanour changed.

Tom stood up and left the room.  Standing across the hall from the door to ensure David had some privacy, he only hoped that this would have the effect he desperately wanted and David desperately needed.

***

David closed the lid of the laptop and broke down in tears.  He’d held it together until now, not wanting to upset his wife or for her to see how distressed he really was.

There was a precipitous feeling, a sense of dizzying terror, as though he was standing on top of a huge dam as it began to crack.  Javert was there, rigid, stern, enraged, as everything began to break apart.

What was it about this character, this man who was so far from his own nature, that had got so deeply under his skin?

The man he had allowed in was an obsessive, a control freak with an iron will.  Javert was constantly asserting authority, welding power, demanding submission in the dreams that had started early in the process.  There was something in Javert’s character that required complete surrender and until David had submitted to him wholly, Javert had refused to come into focus.

David began to wonder if perhaps Andrew and Dominic had been right.  That there was a deeply sexual motive underscoring the relationship between Javert and Valjean.  He had brusquely slapped down Dominic’s argument as ‘crass’, but only now could he begin to see why those motivations had been so disturbing to him.  He was in denial of them because _Javert_ was in denial.

Javert had required David’s submission and had got it.  Javert had required Valjean’s submission and had got it.  But Javert also required Dominic’s submission and this was something that had not been forthcoming.  The way he would flip in and out of character was deeply unsettling to Javert.  The constant jokes, the lack of seriousness, the boundless exuberance were so at odds with Valjean; Javert could not cope with that dissonance.

This was echoed and amplified as David’s process clashed so perfectly with Dominic’s; his meticulousness vs. Dominic’s free-wheeling approach, his seriousness vs. Dominic’s frivolity, his asexual motivation vs. Dominic’s psycho-sexual reasoning.  This opposition, this mirroring had made for some combustible results on screen.  But two people had been hurt, one badly enough to be in hospital and it was all his fault.  How could he have been so distant and so unmoved by what was going on?  David was horrified.

To have blamed Dominic all this time for the difficulties he had been having appalled him.  Looking back, he had said and done some dreadful things, yet Dominic had taken so much of his awful behaviour in good humour.  David felt sick to the pit of his stomach.

Before she’d reluctantly signed off to take the kids to school, one of the last things his wife had said began to run endlessly around his head.  His stomach lurched at the very thought of it, but it wouldn’t leave his mind. Over and over, round and round, overwhelming guilt churning in his gut.

Her reply to his profuse and heartfelt string of 'sorrys' had been to say, “I’m not the one you need to apologise to.”

***

Dominic opened his hotel room door to an extremely distressed David.  He had hesitated for a moment before letting him in, but he was in such a state he couldn’t leave him standing in the corridor.

As soon as the door was closed David grabbed hold of Dominic’s shirt like a drowning man.

“I’m so sorry,” he wept.  “I’m so sorry.”

David collapsed against Dominic, rocking him back.  Tom and his plan had clearly had a major impact.  David, who for months had hardly acknowledged Dominic’s existence, was now sobbing his heart out against his chest.

“It’ll be alright,” Dominic said.  He put his arm around David and gave his shoulder a gentle rub.

Something in David shifted.  His grip on Dominic’s shirt was now much tighter.  His arm straightened and he was applying some force, trying to push Dominic against the wall.

“David!” said Dominic, sharply, his heart rate ratcheting up.  He closed his hand around David’s wrist, holding him firmly.

“Get your hands off me,” said David, his tear-streaked face contorting.

“Shouldn’t that be my line?” Dominic asked, batting away David’s other hand.  He could feel David trying to get him off balance and his back whined in protest, but he was determined not to give an inch.

“Let go,” David demanded.

“You first,” said Dominic, his decision to open the door now looking none too wise.  He was sure he could break David’s hold, but he wasn’t sure what would happen after that.  It would be far better if David chose to let go of his own accord.  “How was Jess?”

“What?” said David, still trying to jostle him into the wall.

“Is she ok?” asked Dominic, pushing back against David.  “Glad to see her old man?”

Confusion rippled across David’s face.

“And the kids?” Dominic pressed.  “Are they alright?”

“They’re ok,” David said, sounding lost.

Dominic felt David’s grip on his shirt lessen very slightly.

“Good, good,” said Dominic, warily.

David’s hand let go of his shirt and fell away.  Dominic slowly released his wrist.  David sank into the chair by the dressing table.  He put his head in his hands and started to cry again.

Dominic exhaled.  His phone was on the table behind David.  He wanted to get Tom over, but given how volatile things were, he didn’t know how that would go down with David.  Instead, he got some tissue from the bathroom and gave it to David along with a bottle of water from the bedside table.

“Am I going mad?” said David, wiping his eyes and nose.  “I feel like I’m going mad.”

“I don’t think you’re going mad,” said Dominic.

David looked up at him, hopefully.

“I think you might be burnt out.”

“You think that’s what it is?”

“You have gone pretty deep on this one,” said Dominic, keeping his distance.

David nodded to himself.  “I’m sorry,” he said, tears falling.  “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Don’t worry about that now,” Dominic said, trying to keep David calm.

“I didn’t want to hurt you, but he wanted to punish you.  He wants to punish you because he wants you…”  David trailed off into tears once more.

“Because he wants me… to do what?”

David shook his head, but he couldn’t speak.

“Please, David, try not to get so upset,” said Dominic.  “It shouldn’t have to be this difficult, surely?”

David wiped his eyes and took in a hitching breath.  “‘Why don’t you try acting, dear boy?’”

“Apocryphal but the sentiment is right.”

Staring into the carpet, David shook his head.  “I don’t know how else to do it.”

“Did you talk to anyone before you took the plunge, if you’ll forgive the pun?”

“Not really.  I… I didn’t think it would be that different.”

“For this length of time, this far from your family?  At least I can pop back to London at the weekend and get dived on by the kids and shouted at by my wife.”

David looked up at him through his tears.  “Tom thinks I should go home for a while.”

“I think Tom’s right.  This type of character will take from you what ever you are willing to give and then demand more.  They’re… like a void.  However much you put in, it will never be enough.”

David was nodding.

“You need to be with the people who know you and love you and will take care of you.  You’ll be surprised,” said Dominic, “how quickly you’ll come back.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely.  After a few days of doing the school run and having to referee arguments about who’s hogging the Xbox and cleaning up sick, you’ll be fine.”

David smiled.  For the first time in ages, Dominic saw the David he’d got to know months before and he felt a huge wave of relief wash over him.

“What about the rest of the shoot?” David asked.  “What if I can’t find him when I get back?”

“Trust that he’ll still be there.  Tom gave you some numbers, didn’t he?  For some of the Method coaches in LA?”

David nodded.

“Talk to them, they know what they’re doing with this stuff.”

“Have they helped you before?”

“Not directly, and the situations aren’t exactly analogous, but they have helped people I know.  It can’t hurt to talk it through with them.  I’m sure when you get back, you’ll have this straightened out and you’ll be the one who decides when he comes out to play, not the other way around.”

They were silent for a time.

“What about the nightmares?” Dominic asked.

David looked up sharply, shocked and guilt-stricken.

“They go with the territory,” said Dominic.  “It would be more worrying if you weren’t having them.”

“They’ve been violent, very… very disturbing.”

“I’ve had some horrifying ones, sweat-drenched, waking-up-screaming ones.”

David was looking at him with utter relief written on his face.

“They’re just dreams,” Dominic continued.  “Unpleasant, but they’ve only got as much significance as you’re willing to grant them.”  His face dropped dramatically.  “Oh God, you’re not a Freudian are you?”

“No,” said David, “nothing like that.”

“Thank goodness.  Absolute bollocks if you ask me.”

David looked surprised.  “I would have thought it was—“

“Right up my alley?” Dominic said, suggestively.  “His conclusions were all based on a tiny handful of patients and he was projecting his own hang-ups most of the time.”

“Have you had much analysis?”

“Me?  No, none.  Well, I say none.  I did have a director, mentioning no names, who was obsessed with it.  Wanted us to all go and have analysis as our character and then ‘bring that to our roles.’” Dominic shook his head.  “There were a few of us Brits in the cast and we all thought it was bollocks.  I told him as much, but it was all booked and paid for.  We went along and basically took the piss.”

“That sounds like something I would find really useful,” said David, almost apologetically.

“I bloody knew it!”  Dominic laughed.  “See what the coaches think when you get to LA.  Maybe Javert just needs to unburden himself.  I know the Americans in the cast thought it was a marvellous idea.”

There was a knock at the door.

“Xander!” Dominic yelped, looking at his watch.  “I forgot he was coming.”

Ignoring David’s confused look, Dominic opened the door.

“Good evening,” said Alexander.

“I’m so sorry, completely forgot the time.  We were just thinking of getting dinner,” said Dominic, shooting a conspiratorial glance back to David, who nodded obediently.

“Ah, that will be ok,” said the nurse.  “I will come back later, please text me.”

“I will, I will.  Sorry.”  Dominic closed the door as Alexander left.

“Who was that?” asked David.

“Who, him?  Escort service,” Dominic quipped.  “Are you hungry?  I feel like I haven’t eaten properly in days.  I found this gorgeous little restaurant, five minutes walk, with a wine list to die for.”

“I don’t drink,” said David.

“I know, I know… lime soda with a twist.  Or iced tea with mint, if you’re feeling an American.”

David raised his eyebrows and nodded.

“I’m going to change my shirt,” said Dominic, “because I’m fairly sure this one’s got snot on it.”

David covered his eyes and muttered another apology.

“It’s had worse than that on it, don’t worry.  But er… I might need a hand.”

David dropped his hands away from his face and was looking at Dominic cautiously.

“Don’t look so petrified, it’s not a come on,” said Dominic, unbuttoning his shirt.  He undid the cuffs and, with some difficulty, took off the shirt.

“Does it hurt that badly?” asked David, standing.

Dominic took a fresh shirt off the hanger and held it out to David, who was looking at the bruising on his back, a pained expression on his face.

“Honestly, I’ll be back breaking rocks in no time,” Dominic said, as David slipped the shirt over his arms and onto his shoulders.

David smiled, wanly.  “I can’t say it enough, I am so sorry.”

“Go and have a cool wash, as my mother used to say.  Your eyes are a bit puffy.”

Whilst David was in the bathroom, Dominic took a couple of painkillers and shoved his phone and wallet into the back pockets of his jeans.  When David emerged, they made their way downstairs.

As they walked through the lobby of the hotel and out into the evening sunset, a wicked smile began to play on Dominic’s lips.

“Attention seeking whore,” said Dominic, rolling the words around his mouth.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“No, no.  If I‘d painted a target on my chest, he couldn’t have hit a better bull’s-eye.  I am a complete harlot.” 

“It’s too much, it’s too harsh,” said David.

“Not at all. ‘Dominic needs to find an outlet for his exhibitionism,’” Dominic recited.  “That was in my school report when I was eight.  Funny how things like that stay with you.”  He was quiet for a short time.  “I’m the sixth of seven kids and got sent off to boarding school.  Doesn’t take a genius to work it out, I suppose.”  He shook himself.  “God, that got maudlin.  I am in desperate need of alcohol, I’m afraid.  Promise you won’t let me drink a whole bottle to myself.”

“Ok, I can do that.”

“Tip it in a potted plant if you have to.”

David smiled.  “Fair enough.”

Dominic thought for a moment.  “You must promise me one more thing.”

“What?  Anything.”

Dominic put his arm around David’s shoulders.  “You must promise me, whatever happens, you’re not going to throw yourself into the Seine.”

“I won’t,” David laughed, tears striking his eyes.  “I won’t, I won’t.  I swear.”

* * *

 

 


End file.
